


Fall

by trollmela



Category: Troy (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trollmela/pseuds/trollmela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes less than a year for Alexandros' world to be shattered. In spring he fell in love, in summer he enjoyed life, in autumn it was all destroyed. Troy, he swears, will fall for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Run

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place some years before the Trojan war and does not build on any historical facts.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> _Some Merriam-Webster definitions of FALL (noun):_  
>   
>  _(…)_  
>  2b : the season when leaves fall from trees : autumn  
> (…)  
> 5a : loss of greatness : collapse  
>  _b : the surrender or capture of a besieged place_  
>  _c : lapse or departure from innocence or goodness_

Alexandros could not hear their pursuers. But he knew they were close. He had to get off the streets as quickly as he could. Leaving the city would be impossible: the guards would already have been alerted and the gates were closed anyway at this late hour.

He tightened his arm around Vernados, who threatened to slip from his grasp. The older man gave a pained groan. Alexandros could feel the slick wetness leaking from his friend’s stomach wound. The other man was a good portion taller than Alexandros, and more heavily muscled, making it difficult for Alexandros to support him. But there was no other way.

It was night, and the people of Troy were asleep. It should have been easier to disappear; Their pursuers would be forced to go from door to door to search for them.

Alexandros did not know where to go. They had fled straight from the barracks in which they had resided for the past months and, while their pursuers had finally lost sight of them, Alexandros knew they would not give up until they had been found. The princes Hector and Deiphobus themselves had given chase, furious that they had been fooled, and Alexandros feared that he, too, was now a suspected spy.

“’Xandros…” Vernados moaned. The younger man wished his friend’s voice were filled less with pain and more with passion.

“You may have to leave me,” the man said through clenched teeth.

“Never,” Alexandros swore.

The other man chuckled with some effort. “You know, you love more than is good for you.”

“So you’ve said before.”

“My little love,” Vernados said with a smile on his bitten-through, bloody lips.

“Always,” Alexandros replied quietly, sparing a moment to meet his companion’s brown eyes with his own fear-filled gaze.

He had to force himself to turn away and continue walking. Vernados attempted to help and move his feet faster but he quickly had to give up; The pain was overwhelming.

“The gods aren’t smiling at me tonight. I probably won’t make it far,” he said.

“I know,” Alexandros answered. “We’re nearly there.”

“Where?”

“Kallias’ house.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I can’t think of any other place. We don’t have a choice.”

“And you think he’ll give shelter to two wanted men?”

“I don’t know!” Alexandros snapped, distress trying his patience.

“You shouldn’t have run with me. You should’ve stayed. This is not your problem, it’s mine. They’d’ve believed that you’re not involved…” Vernados was beginning to slur.

“Be quiet, Vernados. Just be quiet.”

Vernados complied, though more due to exhaustion than because Alexandros had told him so.

Alexandros thought he could hear loud voices. Thankfully they were already at their destination. The area was not one of the best. It was near the place where the launderers washed clothes and it stank of urine. Alexandros knocked on the wooden shutter of a window. Kallias lived on the ground floor. If he was back and wasn’t busy with someone he should be able to hear the knock.

Nothing happened at first. Sweat was running down the side of Alexandros face. Vernados breathing was harsh next to him.

Finally, the window opened and a blonde head poked out. Kallias’ eyes were still heavily lined with kohl so he hadn’t been back for long. His eyes widened when he saw them:

“What happened?” he cried.

Alexandros shushed him. “We need help – the palace guards are looking for us.”

The young man didn’t bother lying about this. Kallias wasn’t doing the most respected work anyhow and there could be many reasons for the palace guards to be searching for someone. That the princes themselves might be leading them, Alexandros kept for himself.

Kallias didn’t even blink. He disappeared and a moment later opened the door. He wasn’t any taller than Alexandros and had no muscles to speak of but he still took Vernados’ other arm and offered his shoulder as support. Together, they hauled the bigger man inside and laid him down on Kallias’ own bed. It was rumpled but Alexandros wasn’t worried about whatever had transpired in that bed a short time ago.

Kallias went back to lock and bolt the door to the streets and his own door as well as the window. There was another occupant on the upper floor who Alexandros had never seen but Kallias had said worked at the port as a carrier.

“Now tell me what happened,” Kallias instructed. “I have some water so we can clean his wound.”

“Do you have string and a needle as well?”

“I think so. Wait.” Kallias hurried to one of his many chests and threw it open.

Vernados seemed unconscious and didn’t even twitch when Alexandros took the knife strapped to the older man’s thigh and cut his clothing open. It couldn’t be saved anyhow.

At that moment the other Trojan returned and handed Alexandros a needle and a small ball of thread. He wore an expectant expression, reminding the younger man that his friend wanted answers. Alexandros thought about what to say. He could lie, though he could not think of how to explain away the Trojan princes themselves searching for Vernados. He could tell Kallias the whole truth and risk scaring the one person who was their only chance of help. Or he could tell at least part of the truth while avoiding the most alarming details. Finally he decided on the latter.

“There was a visitor to the palace tonight. An emissary from Egypt. He said he knew Vernados and claimed he was a spy. I heard it and went to warn Vernados but I was nearly too late. We ran, but not before some bastard managed to injure him.”

Again the younger man did not mention that it had been prince Deiphobus’ knife which had inflicted the vicious, deep cut in his lover’s flesh.

“A spy?” Kallias raised incredulous eyebrows. He studied the man on his bed with different eyes. It was not completely impossible of course. “That’s the biggest thing I’ve heard in a while,” he breathed. Alexandros could see how that his friend was starting to become nervous.

Alexandros wiped the blood from the wound away. The wound needed stitches, but the younger man was hesitant to make them. He had never stitched a wound, nor had a chance to learn how to do it.

“Do you want me to do it?” Kallias asked, noting his hesitation.

“Can you?” Alexandros looked at him with pleading eyes.

Kallias nodded and took the needle and thread out of his hands.

“Hold him down,” he instructed.

Alexandros kneeled up on the bed and took hold of Vernados shoulders. He hoped he would be able to restrain the other man; his lover was usually much stronger than he, something Alexandros had always admired.

Kallias pierced his flesh with the needle and Vernados groaned. His eyes snapped open and he strained not to move. His jaw was tightly clenched. Alexandros turned away from the sight of Kallias sewing and instead met his lover’s warm brown gaze. They never looked away from each other.

Alexandros had to wonder how it had come to this.


	2. Spring

Some months earlier: spring

The first festival in spring around Mount Ida was devoted to Demeter, goddess of the harvest. The day was not exactly fixed. As spring was the rainy season, people usually waited until there was a dry day after sowing was over. The people in the village came together to celebrate, and Alexandros, who did not live in the village itself but rather outside of it with his parents, came every year. This year his mother had given him some sheep guts to sacrifice and Alexandros handed it over to the village’s eldest who acted as a priest on festival days and watched it burn.

Vernados was a stranger in the village, merely passing through, as he claimed. He had a sword girded around his waist and said he was on his way to Troy to be hired as a soldier there. When Alexandros saw him for the first time, Vernados was sitting in the grass under a tree and watching the dancing with a wide smile on his face. He was some years older than the young shepherd, handsome with shoulder-long, wavy black hair, far less curly than Alexandros’ own. He was strongly muscled and this, combined with the sword, impressed Alexandros. Soldiers were rare in the area, and those who came looked down on the common peasants and shepherds such as he.

Vernados, however, seemed friendly and when he caught Alexandros looking, he smiled at him and beckoned to him. The young shepherd approached him then, feeling strangely excited.

“What’s your name?” The warrior asked him.

“Alexandros,” the shepherd answered. “You?”

“Vernados. Would you like to sit?”

“Would you not rather dance?” Alexandros asked forwardly with an impish smile.

Vernados laughed then. “I don’t think I’ve ever danced like this before. You would have to teach me.”

“That I can do.” Alexandros reached out with his hand and Vernados jumped nimbly up to grasp it.

Vernados was a charming, confident man and Alexandros quickly fell in love. It was that very same evening, when it was already dark and fires had been lit, that they retreated behind some bushes and Vernados spread his cloak on the ground; Alexandros laid down upon it and the older man settled over him to kiss and caress him in ways the young shepherd had never experienced before.

The next day Vernados did not leave, only smiled at Alexandros and told him that Trojan’s army could wait. Alexandros felt as if he had consumed ambrosia, so happy was he, and all who looked at him could easily discern it.

They spent many days in bliss together. Alexandros felt as if he had never before laughed this much. Not a day passed by on which Vernados didn’t kiss him at least once, or twice, or three times, or four… Alexandros didn’t want it to end.

His parents were happy for him, though they could not completely hide their concern. Perhaps they were afraid that Vernados might disappoint their son. Alexandros spent most of his time with Vernados now and it was inevitable that sooner or later the mercenary would leave. As Alexandros was head over heels in love, they feared that he would end up with a broken heart.

His parents did not know, however, that Alexandros was not merely infatuated with Vernados. He was utterly in love and seriously considering a future with the other man. And if he had to follow the other man to the city, then he would do so. He did not worry about whether he would find work in Troy. Those were not things he thought of.

He simply enjoyed his time with Vernados. They made love in the grass, even wrestled some playfully, which always ended with the warrior on top and Alexandros giggling beneath him, and Vernados even tried to teach his lover some sword play. For the young shepherd, it was the most wonderful time in the world.

Then came the king’s soldiers.

In Troy, a big festival was being planned, for what purpose, Alexandros didn’t know. It involved games, this he knew, and a great feast for which the king’s men scoured the country for the best animals to slaughter. They came also to his family and they took their only bull.

His father pleaded with the soldiers:

“We need that animal to work our field!”

“The king commanded that the best animals be fetched for the festival in Troy. Be proud, farmer, that your animal was judged worthy!” The commander merely replied, unmoved.

The bull was taken away and Alexandros’ mother cried while his father stubbornly worked on the field alone.

Furious, Alexandros went to see Vernados.

“They took our only bull!” He cried angrily.

“Who?”

“The soldiers of the king of Troy! Why would you want to be in that man’s army?” He demanded.

“It’s work. It pays and I’m good at fighting,” Vernados replied. His broad arms closed around Alexandros and pulled him to his chest. Alexandros could not stay mad at his lover and to place blame on him would be wrong anyhow; still he beat his fist against Vernados shoulder in frustration.

“Come with me to Troy,” Vernados said. “Learn how to fight. And then demand your right from the king.”

Alexandros laughed. “You make it sound so easy.”

Vernados looked down at him. “If you want it to be, if you really want it, then it is.” Gazing intently into Alexandros’ eyes, the older man said once more: “Come with me.”

Alexandros did not reply. He merely rested his head on Vernados shoulder and found that he was actually considering it. He never wanted to leave Vernados.


	3. Summer

Troy was unlike anything Alexandros had ever seen. He had never been to any town larger than the village he had lived nearby of, and Troy seemed unsurpassable to him, like the most magnificent city in existence. It showed how young, and easily impressed he was.

There was the market, which was filled with so much life and colors, smells and noise that he was at first taken aback by and then eagerly wished to explore. Vernados, who had seen such things elsewhere many times, laughed at his companion’s eagerness. He had to almost pull Alexandros away and on to the palace, so enthusiastic was the boy.

Alexandros admired the buildings, some of which were built with bricks or stone and completely unlike the wooden houses he was used to. He looked with awe at the beautiful women, whose wrists were adorned with golden bracelets, and the wealthy men who walked the streets.

Vernados laughed that it would have taken him half the time to get to the barracks than it did with Alexandros in tow. But arrive they did. The barracks adjoined the palace as to be near to protect the walls that surrounded it. Soldiers laughed, played dice, and hurried or wandered from one point to another. Alexandros looked at each of them, and found that Vernados was the most handsome of them all - which in his mind translated to: Vernados was the best warrior of them all.

Vernados may have been aware of these thoughts or not. He stopped a soldier in his tracks to inquire where the recruiter was. The man pointed his hand at the door of a low, one-story building. They followed his indication, passing a training field on the way. Vernados let Alexandros watch a while.

Uncommonly serious, he asked his young companion: "Are you sure of your decision? Is this what you want?"

For a moment, Alexandros seemed insecure.

"Soldiers are harsh men, and I do not want you to become like them. I know I asked you to come. But you must know that soldiers are brutal; they fight in battles; they kill; they obey without question. Is that what you want?" Vernados asked again.

Alexandros' brows drew together with determination. He had made his choice.

"If that is the way to remain with you and perhaps also receive justice for what the king's soldiers stole from my family, then I will do it. I will learn how to fight. I will learn how to be a soldier."

Vernados had given his lover some lessons in sword play, but they had never been serious, never meant to do harm and always been as a game to Alexandros which had often ended with them lying with each other. Perhaps the older man now considered that if the pay of a soldier was not so meager, he could have rented a room for his Alexandros where he would live and not be exposed to a soldier's way. But he knew that for one this would not often give him the opportunity to see his lover as soldiers were restricted to the barracks most of the time, and for another neither he nor Alexandros would be satisfied with his idleness. Vernados knocked on the door and they entered.

The man in charge of recruitment was not quite as tall as Vernados, but his muscular form could easily match the other man's. His skin showed many scars of battles he had survived. He had keen brown eyes and took in his two visitors with a single glance. He was standing behind a table on which clay tablets with different markings were lying, and was speaking to another man clothed in a rich blue tunic and a cloak. He carried a sword which seemed to be rather ceremonial than practical.

Vernados greeted the recruiter with a nod and a small bow to the nobleman. Alexandros copied the gesture.

"Should we return later?" Vernados asked.

"That won't be necessary. We are finished," the nobleman answered. The recruiter bowed with a "Prince Deiphobus," and the nobleman - prince - left.

Having never before even seen a prince, Alexandros couldn't help his astonished stare. Prince Deiphobus either didn't see it or ignored it. He was out of the door quickly.

Now the recruiter sat down again, slowly and with a perfectly straight leg that spoke of an old war injury which would never heal and had thus led to his placement in this room.

"You are here to be recruited?" He asked.

Vernados stepped forward. "Yes," he said. "I have been to battle before and I know how to wield a sword."

"Where did you serve?"

"All over."

A disdainful twist curled the recruiter's lips. 'All over' usually meant mercenary, and mercenaries were not counted among the most honorable men. Vernados was neither intimidated nor bothered by it. The recruiter would also know very well that those who had fought as mercenaries for any length of time had thick skin and no small skill at battle - qualities which were very useful for any army.

"And you?" The recruiter asked, turning to Alexandros.

The younger man was taken aback by the sudden attention and could not immediately find his tongue.

"He has little training and no experience, but he is young and able-bodied," Vernados answered for him. The recruiter didn't react, clearly waiting for an answer from Alexandros himself.

"I'm willing to learn," Alexandros offered, forcing himself to meet the other man's eyes. The Trojan officer did not seem to be completely convinced, but neither would he turn any recruit away. For a powerful city one needed a powerful army and every soldier had his uses. Besides, training would take care of the young man's softness quickly enough.

"You look like a Trojan," the recruiter said.

"I'm from the country. Near Mount Ida."

"I see." And perhaps the recruiter did see. He glanced briefly at Vernados, then back at Alexandros.

"Very well. Your names?"

They gave their names and the recruiter scratched something into two clay tablets.

"You can both go to the armory and the provisioner. You will receive what you need from them. They will also tell you where to sleep. Vernados, find Dorieus, he will judge where you will be most useful. Alexandros, you go to Adrastos, he will be your instructor. Any questions?"

Alexandros and Vernados looked at each other. Alexandros felt as if he had hundreds of questions, but he couldn't find even a single one to ask.

"Then welcome to Troy's army."  


* * *

  
The life of a soldier was as hard as Vernados had said it would be. Alexandros spent hours of training with the sword, being more often than not relentlessly beaten into the ground until the instructor called a halt. By the time the day was over, he was so tired he merely fell onto his cot to sleep.

Moreover, there was hardly any opportunity to show his affection to Vernados. They shared the barracks with dozens of other men with no privacy, and Vernados had duties and training at different times than Alexandros so there were pitifully few occasions of stealing some private moments outside the barracks.

Thus the young Trojan spent most of his time getting to know the city alone. Before long, he knew Troy as if he had been born there: he knew the market and every trader there; he knew the inns and which one sold the best wine; and he knew which areas where populated by the rich and which by the poor.

He’d always made friends easily, and it was no different in Troy. Besides his fellow recruits, he befriended a farmer who sold fruit and vegetable every couple of days on the market, a servant in one of the inns and many other people in between.

He did not fear the less fortunate people either. He knew plenty of Trojans who avoided looking at the prostitutes or the children sleeping in alleys at night, pretending they didn’t see them. Alexandros did not mind them. They were only trying to survive. The first time he met Kallias, Alexandros was on his way to the barracks.

He knew, by then, almost every shortcut in the city. Hearing angry voices in the night wasn’t a first for him either. It was amazing how many affairs were uncovered during the night, how many fights took place. Sometimes it was an argument between husband and wife, or between two lovers which got out of hand. Other times it was clients which had become too rough with a prostitute. Alexandros didn’t expect any different that night when he caught sight of a slender blonde man wearing a chiton which was too tight and too short for his figure, and whose eyes were outlined darkly with kohl. Three soldiers, drunk by their speech, were crowding the young man. The soldiers were young men, about Alexandros’ age, but he didn’t know them.

“What’s going on?” Alexandros demanded.

“Nothing you need to get involved in,” one said.

“Then I suggest you leave this man alone and go.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business? Or are you a whore, too?”

“I’ll say this politely only once more: leave!”

Alexandros hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. He reached for his dagger. Vernados had given it to him and told him to carry it at all times. Sometimes Vernados seemed almost paranoid to him, but now he was glad he had followed his lover’s advice.

The dagger thankfully gave the drunks a pause. They weren’t armed and obviously they hadn’t counted on the interference by a third party. A whore was an easy target. A man armed with a knife not so much.

“Let’s go,” one of the men said, sounding nervous and nearly sober. The second one seemed to agree and in the end they took their third companion and left.

The prostitute gave a sigh of relief and pushed himself off the wall.

“Are you alright?” Alexandros asked.

“Yes, thanks to you.” The man gave him a searching look. Alexandros became abruptly aware that he was still holding his knife and quickly sheathed it.

“Can I walk you home? Or somewhere else?”

The man chuckled humorlessly. “No can do, love. Business isn’t finished for the night.”

“Oh. Yes, sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll just...leave you then.”

Alexandros felt like an idiot as he walked away. And the man hadn’t even told him his name.

He met him again a few days later in an inn. Alexandros was about to finish the last of his wine. He was alone because Vernados hadn’t been able to make it until the prostitute sat down across from him.

“Who are you?” The man had asked.

The Trojan had been perplexed. “My name is Alexandros. I’m a recruit.”

The other man’s eyebrows went up to his hairline. “You’re a recruit?”

“Yes.” Alexandros frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The prostitute’s features softened. “You don’t look like the recruits I usually see. Nor do you behave like them.”

Alexandros snorted. “I assume that’s a good thing.”

“It is. My name is Kallias.”

And that is how their friendship started, as unlikely as one might think it: A recruit who seemed too soft to be a soldier and a prostitute who did not expect much from life anymore.


	4. Closing In

_Present day: fall_

Vernados’ eyes lay shut. It seemed that he was not so much asleep as unconscious. Alexandros sat next to him on the edge of the bed and stroked through his lover’s hair.

“Will he be alright?” He asked Kallias.

The prostitute shrugged. “He’s strong; if he rests, he should be well again soon.”

“I don’t think rest is an option,” Alexandros said. “We have to get out of Troy, as soon and as quickly as possible.”

“You’re right. But, of what you’ve told me, Vernados had access to the princes themselves and advisers in high positions. They will not risk his escape and will do anything to prevent it. The gates will be strictly guarded and you’re unlikely to pass through unrecognized.”

“I know,” Alexandros lamented. “I don’t know what to do.” He buried his head in his hands.

Kallias remained silent for a while. He stood at the end of the bed and was watching the lovers on the bed. Finally he asked:

“Did you know that he is a spy?”

“No,” Alexandros moaned and lifted his head. “No, I didn’t know. But I don’t care either! I love him!”

His friend snorted. “Do you know how often love is a hero’s downfall? And, don’t take this to heart, but you’re not a hero, which wouldn’t make your fall any less hard. Did Vernados ever tell you that he loved you? How do you know he wasn’t using you?”

“Of course he loves me! And of what use would I be to him? He could have joined the army alone without me!”

“True,” Kallias conceded. Then he sighed. “We need to find a way to get you out. But first we need to hide you. Did you ever tell anyone about me? Does anyone know?”

“No, I didn’t tell anyone about you. It never came up.”

Kallias’ lips curled. Perhaps he thought that he had not come up in Alexandros’ conversations because he was a low-life whore. The Trojan did not seem to notice this. He was worrying his bottom lip, probably considering how to leave the city. But he found as little a solution as Kallias.

Suddenly, a knock broke the silence. Alexandros’ head snapped up. Perhaps Kallias considered not opening. But the knock came again. Kallias went to the door, blocking the view into the room with his body. Alexandros couldn’t even tell who was standing in front of the door.

“What is it?” Kallias asked.

“I thought you might want to earn some more money tonight.”

“Not tonight. Nor tomorrow. Come back in a couple of days or so.”

“You already got someone here?”

The visitor obviously tried to look around Kallias. Perhaps he caught a glimpse, the Trojan could not tell. Kallias pushed the man back.

“Get out!” he said.

The man grumbled. Alexandros thought he could catch, “You’ll wish you’d let me in,” but that was it. Kallias closed the door firmly.

“I think I should have a look around outside. See where the soldiers are. They’ll assume I’m on my way home.”

“Are you sure?”

“We need to know. And unless you have a better idea...?”

Alexandros shook his head.

“Don’t open the door to anyone until I come back,” Kallias instructed. Then went outside.

The waiting was the worst. The Trojan found he became sensitive to the slightest of noise from outside. He worried and bit his lips. Again, footsteps outside passing the house. Were those soldiers? But they left.

Vernados groaned. Quickly, the Trojan turned to his lover.

“’Xandros?” The warrior asked, voice rough.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Where are we?”

“At Kallias’. Do you remember? He stitched your wound?”

The warrior closed his eyes and nodded weakly.

“We can’t leave the city,” he rasped.

“No,” Alexandros admitted.

“We’ll have to try anyhow.”

“But how?” His lover cried.

“I don’t know yet.” He opened his eyes again. “Perhaps you can still save yourself if you give me up.”

“Never!” Alexandros swore, leaning and wrapping one of his arms carefully around Vernados shoulders and kissing his cheek before burying his face in his lover’s neck. He smelled like sweat and blood.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Vernados said.

Alexandros froze, swallowing heavily. “Is it true what they said?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

The Trojan sat up. “Then our love was a lie?”

“No. Our love was never a lie. I wanted your company, I wanted you by my side. Now I wish I had never made you come with me.”

Alexandros sighed, suppressing tears. He wished things were different.

Once again Alexandros could hear footsteps nearby. They sounded rushed, and this time they stopped in front of the door. A quick knock followed, a whispered, “It’s me,” and the door opened to reveal Kallias. He looked flushed as if he had run.

“We have to get you out of Troy now,” he said.

“Why?” Alexandros asked. “What’s going on?”

Vernados didn’t bother asking. With a groan he struggled to get up. Kallias came to help him.

“I overheard some guards. They’re about to start searching every house and if it takes the whole night and all of tomorrow! They really want to catch you!”

“Both of us?” Vernados asked.

Kallias hesitated. “I think so, yes. They spoke of both of you in any case. I think they suspect Alexandros of being a spy as well.”

“You could surrender and hand me over. I’m half dead anyhow. It’s unlikely we will manage to escape,” Vernados told his lover again.

Alexandros shook his head stubbornly. “Never!” He took the older man’s arm and helped him up. “How are we going to do this?” He asked Kallias.

“I have no idea. But I know a small gate, hidden behind a house and some bushes. It’s been closed for years now. If we can get it open, you’re out.”

“If we get that far,” Alexandros said grimly.

Kallias shrugged. “We have to try.” He took Vernados’ other side. The warrior had did not seem to have regained any of his strength during his brief rest.

“Wait,” Kallias suddenly said. Leaving the two standing in front of his door, he went through a trunk and took out a cloak. “Here, somebody forgot this once. It should be large enough.”

With Alexandros’ help, Vernados was dressed in the cloak and the hood pulled up.

“Now let’s go.”


	5. Midsummer

_A few weeks earlier: midsummer_

Alexandros’ training came to an end. He had discovered that his best weapon was the bow, though for a common soldier he wasn’t too bad with a sword or a spear either. Vernados, in the meantime, had been accepted in a unit under Prince Deiphobus’ command. This meant that sometimes he was free, while at other times he would be away from the city for days.

Vernados had also gained many friends and acquaintances, not only among the common soldiers but also some commanders and even advisers to the king. Alexandros didn’t understand why Vernados would want to know them; the young Trojan found them rather arrogant. Nevertheless, his lover always found time to be with Alexandros, and the young man could not think of a more considerate lover.

“Come, I have a surprise for you for tonight!” Vernados told him one afternoon.

Alexandros laughed. “What is it?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

Vernados led his young lover away from the barracks to the palace of Troy. They entered through one of the back doors reserved for soldiers, servants and slaves.

“What are we doing here?” Alexandros hissed, as if he was afraid his voice might cause someone to come and throw them out. They had no business being here.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

The older warrior navigated through the numerous corridors as if he knew them by heart. He led Alexandros up the stairs to the guest rooms and entered one of them. Alexandros did not know this of course, but the guest rooms were almost all the same, consisting of a sitting room and a bedroom. The sitting room they entered was lit with oil lamps and by its light Alexandros saw a veritable feast laid out on the table. He turned to his lover in surprise.

“Neither of us has duties tomorrow. So I thought we could enjoy at least one night uninterrupted in each other’s company and enjoy some luxury as well. For tonight, this room is ours.”

Alexandros gaped. Finally remembering to thank Vernados, he threw his arms around the older man and kissed him.

“How did you do this?” He asked when he had to come up for breath.

Vernados shrugged dismissively. “A friend,” he claimed.

Alexandros gave him another kiss. “I love you,” he said.  
His lover smiled and returned the kiss, which turned much less chaste than Alexandros’ had been.

“We can do this all night,” he said, nipping at the Trojan’s lips.

Alexandros chuckled. “And miss the meal? I’m a poor shepherd; I never pass up something to eat, especially if I don’t have to pay for it.”

With a playful slap to Vernados’ chest he left his lover’s embrace and sat down at the table. Vernados sighed with fake exasperation and rolled his eyes before joining the younger man.

They ate with great enthusiasm, and talked for what seemed to Alexandros to be the first time in weeks. And when they had finished the food, they moved to the soft bed where they made love until late into the night. When Alexandros fell asleep, he wished he could have this forever.

 

In the morning, Alexandros woke up alone. Breakfast was already set at the table, and the previous night’s dinner was gone. He wondered where Vernados was; his side of the bed was nearly cold.

His stomach grumbled so he pushed his wondering aside for the moment, got up and sat at the table to eat. The food was delicious, and he had to take care to eat slowly so there would still be some left for Vernados when he returned. Alexandros had hardly finished that thought, when his lover quietly opened the door and slipped in. He seemed momentarily surprised to see that the young Trojan was already awake, then he covered it with a smile.

“Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a prince,” Alexandros replied, also smiling. “Where did you go so early in the morning? I missed you.”

Vernados laughed. “I’m an old man. My bladder doesn’t like waiting.” Changing the topic he added with a twinkle in his eyes: “We have the room until noon. How about we eat and then enjoy it some more?”

* * *

  
The next day, Vernados’ unit received orders to ride out with Prince Deiphobus. His father, the king, had given him the task of ridding the countryside of a group of bandits who had been plaguing some villages for some time now.

Alexandros and his fellow soldiers stayed in Troy. Nearly two weeks later, Vernados returned. Alexandros awaited him eagerly, having heard of their arrival as soon as the guards had seen them. He was astonished to see his lover riding side-by-side with the Prince himself.

Vernados gave him a wink and a smile; more was not possible, as he was speaking to Deiphobus at the same time. When they finally did meet, the Prince had gone and Vernados was removing his armor. The older man gave Alexandros a soft kiss, before the Trojan helped him undress.

“You were with the Prince!” Alexandros said in amazement.

Vernados chuckled. “Yes. I had the opportunity to do a small service for him on our mission.”

“Small service he calls it,” another man threw in, having obviously overheard the couple speaking. It was another man from Vernados’ unit. The barracks were simply no place for privacy.

“Saved the Prince’s life, he did,” the man continued.

Alexandros’ eyes became huge. “You have? How did it happen?”

“It was nothing special,” Vernados protested.

The other man approached them. “Don’t let him tell you such stories, boy. Vernados saved the Prince from a spear aimed at him. Snatched it right out of the air!”

Vernados laughed. “Now you’re exaggerating. I intercepted the spear with mine, that’s all.” Turning to Alexandros he explained: “I knocked it away. It was more luck than anything else.”

“Needless to say,” the other warrior continued, “the Prince is very obliged to your man here. And there’s probably little he couldn’t ask of him.”

“So we might get another meal like the one we had before you left?” Alexandros asked playfully.

“Food,” Vernados sighed in mock exasperation. “Do you ever think of anything but food?”

“Sure I do. I also think of drink. And occasionally I think of you,” the Trojan answered, giving his lover a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Well, you’ll probably not have a lack of either food or drink. There are plenty of feasts the Prince can get you invited to,” the warrior said.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Vernados protested. “Prince Deiphobus expressed his thanks and he has no obligation to do more. If he wants to offer me something, he’ll let me know.”

A few hours later in the afternoon, a messenger from the palace informed Vernados that he had been invited to the feast which was to take place that night. Officially, it was in celebration of the Prince’s return, though the truth was that there was always some kind of feast at the palace. The reason was usually not that important.

Vernados acted modestly, thanked the messenger and told him he would be there. Alexandros, though, could see that his lover was pleased. And why wouldn’t he be? It would help him rise in the ranks and he fully deserved a reward. Alexandros was especially excited when he heard of the invitation as, coincidentally, he was on duty in the palace that night. It would be his first time standing guard during a feast, and others had already said that it was nothing exciting. At most someone would drink too much and start an argument or fall on his face; in fact, that was very likely to happen.

The feast was just as sumptuous as the former shepherd had imagined it to be. At least five sheep had been slaughtered, the fish he had stopped counting and it was all topped with honey, nuts, berries, fruit and vegetables. Alexandros practically salivated at the sight. But the watchful eyes of Simonides, his commander, were intimidating enough for him to put on the mask of an attentive, but mostly motionless, guard.

He took the liberty anyhow to keep an eye out for his lover. Sometimes, Vernados seemed to disappear right in front of him: one moment he saw him in one place, the next he was just gone. After a while he would catch him elsewhere again. Whenever their eyes met, Vernados gave him a smile or a wink. Once, he approached just long enough to murmur into his ear:

“Want me to get you some of that food?” And disappear again without waiting for more than a pout in answer to his mocking.

Eventually the feast came to an end; most men had finished eating and stood together in groups for conversation. Alexandros was beginning to get tired and the only distraction that night had been a supremely drunk council man he had helped one of his fellow guards take out of the hall without causing too much fuss.

Just then, Vernados came into his sight again, moving towards him. The Trojan sent him a welcoming smile, but before his lover reached him, he was intercepted by a man. He was dressed in an expensive-looking red tunic and a slender circlet on his head showed that he was one of the Trojan princes. He wasn’t the first one Alexandros had seen that night. The king wasn’t present – he couldn’t be at every feast after all – but he thought he had seen the crown prince Hector at one point, though he couldn’t be sure. This one remembered clearly, for he had seen him the first day he and Vernados arrived in Troy: it was Deiphobus.

Alexandros strained his ears and found that they were just close enough that he could overhear some of their conversation. The Prince commended Vernados on his actions during the campaign, and then he questioned him on his background. Vernados answered politely, but didn’t go into too much detail.

He pricked his ears when Prince Deiphobus commented: “So you do not have a wife here in Troy?”

Vernados smiled. “Not a wife,” he answered and his eyes briefly strayed to Alexandros, who turned red.

The Prince was observant enough to catch the look and, as his back was mostly to Alexandros, turned and caught sight of the young guard.

“Join us,” he called to Alexandros, who felt the blush spread to his ears as he obeyed.

“What’s your name?” Deiphobus asked directly.

“Alexandros,” the Trojan answered obediently.

“You sound like you’re from this area.”

“That’s true. I’m from the countryside.”

“And where did you meet Vernados?”

“At home – at a festival in Demeter’s honor in spring.”

“Ah, young love then and already so devoted. I assume you followed him to Troy?”

Alexandros fought another blush. “Yes.”

“I asked, that is,” Vernados clarified, attempting to draw the Prince’s attention away from Alexandros, who was clearly uncomfortable.

“Well, next week there’s another feast where I’d be pleased if you came, Vernados,” Deiphobus said to the warrior. “Your lover would, of course, also be welcome. And he won’t even have to stand guard. I’ll speak to his superior if necessary. That would be Simonides, correct? A good man.” The Prince smiled at them both. “Please excuse me now.”

Alexandros gave a sigh of relief once Deiphobus was out of earshot. He found that speaking to royalty made him nervous. Vernados only laughed.

“You may have to get used to these kinds of events then,” he commented.

“I’ll never get used to them.”  
 


	6. Caught

Morning was breaking. The streets were still mostly quiet, but it was only a matter of time until the people of Troy would be awake enough to go about their business.

"Perhaps we should have waited until more people were about. In a crowd they'd have a harder time finding us," Alexandros said.

"No, better this way," Kallias disagreed. "We're not exactly inconspicuous. Sooner or later someone would realize we are the ones they're looking for."

Alexandros had to admit that this was true. Kallias led them through the alleys. He seemed certain of where he was going which made Alexandros feel more confident. Vernados' eyes were glassy, but he was clearly trying to pay attention to their surroundings and where they were going. He hadn't said anything in a while. The cloak covered him mostly and as long as they didn't come close, nobody would see his pale face wet with sweat. The wound was hidden well enough, and it was probably only Alexandros who was hyperaware of the dried blood sticking to the warrior's clothes.

A shout in the distance drew their attention. They looked around wildly, but could not see anyone.

"Where did it come from?" Vernados demanded, his voice weaker than usually.

Mutely, Alexandros indicated towards his right while Kallias said: "This way!" And pointed forward. The two Trojans looked at each other in frustration.

"Let's go left," Kallias decided. It seemed the safest option, though it would mean another detour.

Alexandros agreed and Vernados was taken along without asking him. He wouldn't have replied anyhow, for he did not know which way was better himself. A door opened along their way and they flinched involuntarily. An elderly woman briefly came out to dump garbage onto the street. She took note of them briefly but seemed to dismiss their appearance. It was possible that she thought Vernados drunk. Alexandros gave a sigh of relief when she closed her door.

As they continued on their way, Alexandros became aware that they were nearing the city wall. Once, they cowered in a dark corner while two guards made their way past them. They didn't seem to be either in a hurry or looking for anyone in particular.

"Think they've given up?" Alexandros asked.

"Hardly," Kallias replied.

"I don't think so," Vernados joined. "But if we're lucky, then not all guards have been informed yet."

Then the wall loomed over them. Suddenly, there was complete silence, with the only exception being some birds who sang their joyful greeting to the morning sun.

"Where's the gate?" Alexandros asked.

Kallias looked up and down the wall. "It should be here somewhere."

The prostitute made sure Vernados could stand without his support, and went to search himself. Along the wall, a variety of bushes, small trees, tall grass and other plants had taken their place. There was a trail, so some people obviously still came to this part of the city. Alexandros scanned the wall without success. Kallias, in the meantime, had walked it down some and turned a corner. A moment later, he came back at a run.

"I found it. But I don't know yet whether we can open it," he said, as he quickly draped Vernados other arm around his shoulders and together they made their way as quickly as possible to the gate.

It was smaller than Alexandros had imagined it, being more of a door; and it seemed to them that the plants were especially thick here. Perhaps it had been done purposefully to block the gate. Still, those they could remove, and would, if only the gate itself still opened.

Vernados became more alive now that their escape – at least from the city – seemed to be at hand.

"I'll help," he said. Alexandros didn't bother arguing. He, too, wanted to get out as quickly as possible.

They had Vernados' and Alexandros' swords and quickly hacked off enough plants to get to the gate itself. The wood was not yet brittle enough for them to simply break it down, and several bolts blocked the door. Kallias and Alexandros attempted to lift the first bolt upwards, and, after some straining, they were finally able to remove it. The next one, however, wouldn't budge. It was made to slide sideways, but for some reason they couldn't move it. Vernados joined in their efforts, but even he would only possibly have been able to do anything if he had been at his full strength. The way it was, he quickly tired and became weak. Some blood seeped through his tunic; perhaps one of the stitches had ripped.

Alexandros cursed and fought against angry tears seeping into his eyes. "What are we going to do now?"

Kallias slapped his palm against the wood, making a small noise of pain when a splinter slid under his skin. He sighed. "Do you really think they'll search every house for you?"

"I don't know," Alexandros replied.

"They'll certainly do their best," Vernados said. "And if anyone knows you and Alexandros are friends, then you will be one of the first to receive a visit."

"Perhaps I have another idea. It's not the best, but if you want to get out of here, we have to try it." Kallias took a breath. "We go to the next gate and I distract the guards while you slip out. By now, the first merchants will be arriving, and the guards won't be able to pay attention to everyone."

Alexandros hesitated. It could turn out to be the worst plan ever. But it might be their only chance. Vernados was probably thinking the same, for he did not immediately dismiss or approve of the idea either. Finally he nodded.

"Let's try it."

The warrior fixed his hood until it covered his face again. He wished he could get rid of the stench of blood and sweat. Mentally, he steeled himself for a fight. Briefly he considered telling Kallias and Alexandros again to leave him, or perhaps even turn him in. But he knew Alexandros would not do it, and despite Kallias’ far from honorable profession, he seemed to have no thought of cowardice or betrayal either.

The two younger Trojans supported him again. This time, they went slowly, and as they neared the larger streets where they were bound to encounter people, Vernados straightened to take his own weight. Kallias moved away, and Alexandros linked his arm with his lover's to support him more surreptitiously. Pretending Vernados was drunk wouldn't help them get past the guards.

They weren't far from the next city gate. Only a few more turns and they would be there. Alexandros' hands were trembling and he hid them in his cloak. He didn't want Vernados to see them and worry. He wondered how and why his lover had become a spy and whether he had ever been in a situation like this. He believed that his affection was real, but he couldn’t help wondering whether it had been part of the plan or it had even simply been advantageous for Vernados to take him along to Troy. He knew that now was not the time to ask these questions.

They hadn’t even reached the large streets yet when suddenly a voice shouted:

"Stop!"

Alexandros froze instinctively. Vernados and Kallias dragged him on, but they didn't run. They pretended they hadn't heard anything.

"Stop!" the same voice called again.

Now he could hear the footsteps behind them hasten. There was a rattle of armor, perhaps even the sliding of a sword drawn from its sheath. Alexandros made the mistake of looking back. It was a group of six soldiers, all of them with a well-seasoned look. Two carried their naked blades in their hands. Their leader had seen Alexandros looking and made a gesture accompanied by another command for them to stop. Now they couldn't pretend that they hadn’t heard the order or hadn’t known the soldiers were talking to them.

With another vicious curse Kallias made to run. Alexandros meant to pull Vernados along, but the older warrior resisted.

"No," he said. He stopped and turned around, awaiting the soldiers. Perhaps he had hoped he could talk his way out of the situation.

But Kallias' and Alexandros' attempt to run had, in the soldiers’ eyes, proven that there was something not quite right about them. All of the men had drawn their swords by now and, as they approached, they spread out to encircle them.

"Show your faces," the group's leader demanded.

None of them reacted. The circle was not closed yet, when one of the men advanced on Vernados. Abruptly, without even Alexandros or Kallias seeing the movement, Vernados stabbed him. The iron of his dagger went straight into the man’s heart. Alexandros jumped back in shock, only just remembering to draw his sword. Vernados already had his in hand. Kallias was unarmed, but made to punch one of the soldiers anyway. The man didn't hesitate, drew back his sword and swung it against the prostitute. It cut cleanly through his throat. Kallias went down, choking on his own blood. He dropped onto the dusty street, where the young man’s dark red blood quickly spread into a puddle beneath him.

Alexandros, hearing his friend's last breath, saw his lifeless body for only a moment. With an angry cry he attacked the man nearest him, and managed to wound him enough that the soldier retreated. But another man had got too close now. He knocked Alexandros’ sword out of his hand despite his furious resistance, and restrained him with one arm while he wrapped his other hand around the young Trojan's windpipe. Alexandros fought to breathe as the eyes of who he realized was his commander Simonides bored straight into his.

"Do you want your lover dead? Just say so!" Simonides called to Vernados.

Alexandros strained against the warrior, and attempted to see Vernados who was just out of sight. But Simonides’ hand tightened like iron around his throat and the former shepherd’s vision darkened until he blacked out.


	7. When the Leaves Begin to Fall

Alexandros swore that he would never get used to these events. Even though he had been to a good half dozen of these dinners, he would never get used to Prince Deiphobus taking Vernados from his side so they could talk about strategy, elderly advisors nodding their greetings to his lover and even being introduced to the Crown Prince.

He accepted it, mostly for Vernados’ sake. Alexandros knew the older warrior was pleased and expected to rise in the ranks. It wasn’t as if Alexandros wasn’t happy for his lover; he simply didn’t have any such ambitions for himself.

Within a few weeks, Vernados received regular invitations to feasts in the palace and Prince Deiphobus’ hunts in the country side. Alexandros, at first, was not keen to join them: the former shepherd knew that the hunting parties comprised of men who’d married one of the numerous royal daughters or were close to other members of Priam’s family and thus rich, influential and, above all – at least in his eyes – arrogant.

But when Deiphobus himself asked him why he had not joined them, the former shepherd knew that he could no longer exclude himself without offending the man.

“Do you not ride?” Deiphobus asked him.

“Only a little. My parents did not have a horse.”

“I see. Well, you don’t have to worry about that. You and Vernados will have horses from my own stable and Hector will join us next time as well. I’m sure he’d be willing to give you some advice. What are your weapons?”

“I’m best with a bow.”

“That is good. We have use for that at a hunt. It’s a shame Hector couldn’t be here tonight, you could have met each other. No matter. I will see you tomorrow then. Don’t forget your bow!”

The prince left to join a group of his friends.

“Has someone finally managed to convince you to come?” Vernados inquired from behind Alexandros. The Trojan started.

“Vernados! How did you get here and why didn’t I see you?”

His lover only smiled mysteriously and changed the subject.

* * *

The next day started no later than it usually did. The other soldiers ribbed Alexandros some for spending his time with nobler men rather than with them. Typically, they quickly shut up when Vernados appeared. They knew that the warrior was very likely to rise in the ranks and, if he so desired, could make their lives difficult.

Vernados smiled at his lover.

“Are you ready?”

Alexandros nodded. “Let’s go.”

 

They met the party at the stable of the palace. A number of grooms were busy preparing the horses. Deiphobus was merely watching and speaking to Aeneas, one of his brothers-in-law.

“Vernados, Alexandros! I’m pleased you were able to join us. Vernados, your horse is over there.” He pointed to a chestnut a stable boy was putting the bridle on. “And Hector is getting the one for Alexandros. He should be back soon. Ah, there he is!”

It was the first time Alexandros saw the Crown Prince up close. He had seen him once before but it had been fleeting and from a distance. Even then he had appeared imposing to Alexandros. He was taller than most men, as tall as Vernados, and well-muscled. His hair was brown and curled, very similar to Alexandros’, in fact, though much better cared for. The last time the former shepherd had seen him, he had worn a helmet and armor. Now he wore a blue chiton and a cloak instead.

He made eye contact with Alexandros and the young Trojan reluctantly approached him.

“You must be Alexandros,” Hector said.

“Yes, my Prince. It is an honor to meet you.”

“My brother said that you’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“I have ridden a horse,” Alexandros corrected. “But that was a long time ago and it was only a few times.”

“Well, today you will learn from me.”

Soon the other men of the hunting party arrived and they set out. It was unusual to ride through the streets of Troy and see men and women greet them with respectful bows. The former shepherd carefully avoided looking at their faces. Alexandros and Vernados did not ride next to each other: once they were out of the city gates, the elder warrior rode near the front with Deiphobus while Alexandros was in the middle next to Hector who every so often gave him commands for a better seat or how to use the reins. Alexandros quickly got the hang of it and, although the Crown Prince did not say so, he seemed pleased with his student.

“Deiphobus was right about you,” Hector commented.

“About what?”

“You look as if you could be a long lost brother of ours.”

Alexandros laughed uncomfortably.

“I don’t think I’ve heard that you were missing one.”

Hector hesitated. “We had a younger brother once.”

“May I ask what happened to him?”

“He died a few days after his birth. He even had a name already. We called him Paris.”

“That’s a nice name.” Alexandros wondered why the Prince still thought of the baby. Newborn babies and young children died every day, and it was a pain nearly every family had to deal with several times in their lives. “I’m sure he’d have been a good brother,” he added.

Hector looked sad. “No, he really wouldn’t have been.”

Alexandros didn’t know what to say to that. Thankfully, the crown prince changed the subject.

“You’re from Mount Ida, aren’t you?” He questioned.

“Yes.”

Hector nodded. “You have their accent.”

 

It was a successful hunt. Though Alexandros did not get to use his bow, the nobles had their fun and at the end they had slain a boar and two deer which they transported back to the city where the meat would be served at the night’s feast. The two lovers were, of course, again invited.

The number of people at the feast was greater than Alexandros had ever seen before. Besides the hunters and various other members, friends and acquaintances of the royal family, trading parties from Egypt and Phrygia had arrived at the same time and were using the opportunity to socialize and get to know Trojans they might want to do business with at a later point. The whole hall was filled with finery.

 

They had a delicious meal after which the participants were free to walk about and speak with each other. Vernados had stayed with Alexandros in the beginning but his young lover knew that unlike himself, the older man would want to mingle so he sent him off and soon lost sight of him.

Alexandros found company with an elderly advisor who was pleasant to speak to and did not seem to mind that Alexandros was not of noble blood himself. But, as the night became darker and the hour later, the old man tired and finally excused himself to go home.

The former shepherd then found a spot by the window where he could either look out into the gardens or observe the people in the hall. He had never seen the gardens before and was fascinated by its clean and orderly appearance. The moon was full and thus there was more than enough light to see by.

“Do you like it?”

Alexandros turned in surprise. Without him realizing, Prince Hector had approached. He looked even more like the prince he was than he had during the hunt.

“The gardens, I mean,” he clarified.

“They look beautiful.”

“If you like you can take a walk there. I suspect you are not much interested in the company here.”

Alexandros blushed. “It’s not that I don’t like your friends…” he stuttered.

“-but they are not the kind of people you usually chose to spend time with,” Hector finished for him. “I understand. Where is Vernados?”

“He is around here somewhere.” Alexandros searched the room with his eyes. “But I don’t know where. I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“If you wish to take a closer look at the gardens you’re welcome to. Now is probably your best choice. In a bit the really drunk men will decide that some fresh air would do them good.”

The former shepherd smiled. “Thank you, for the advice. In that case I think I’ll go now.”

Alexandros left nearly unseen. The slap of his sandals echoed around the high corridors and he marveled at the luxury the King lived in. He passed some guards but, as he didn’t know any of them, he didn’t stop to speak to them.

He took his time exploring the gardens and only turned back when he heard loud voices approaching. At least one of the men sounded drunk and the others were likely not far behind so he went back into the palace.

All of a sudden, he heard an angry, familiar voice: it was Prince Deiphobus.

“I don’t believe it! He fooled us all!”

“Calm down, brother,” Hector told him, calmly but firmly. Alexandros ducked out of sight. He didn’t want to be caught between the two princes having an argument.

“We need to stay calm and find Vernados,” Hector continued.

“If it hadn’t been for the Egyptian Emissary being here tonight, who knows what secrets that bastard would have spied out,” Deiphobus said, no less furious than before. He was walking fast, Alexandros could hear. “I want him found! And find his lover, too. He claimed that he wanted to see the gardens. Look there.”

“I don’t think that Alexandros is in league with Vernados. I heard that they met only a few weeks before they came to Troy. He may not even know that Vernados is a spy.” Alexandros had to bite his tongue sharply to suppress the gasp. He very nearly left his hiding spot. The third man speaking was Simonides.

Deiphobus snorted. “We’ll see. Either way, find them. They are probably both still in the palace so it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Let’s keep this quiet for now,” Hector instructed.

Then the men were past the hiding Trojan and disappeared around a corner. Alexandros’ knees were shaking. He could hardly process what he had overheard but he understood that he needed to find Vernados. Obviously Vernados hadn’t been in the feast hall but the Prince believed that the warrior was still somewhere in the palace. Alexandros didn’t know the palace, save for the one guest room he and Vernados had spent a night in and even that he probably would not be able find again. He couldn’t say what his lover would do, only what he himself would do. So he decided that sneaking back to the barracks was his best choice.

Sneaking out of the palace was the most nerve-wrecking thing Alexandros had ever done. It was true that at home he had been known for some mischievousness and entering where he should not have but the most he would have received there was a scolding or a cuff about the head; now the risk was much higher. He jumped at every noise and sometimes hid in truly disgusting corners which some men obviously used to relieve themselves.

Suddenly, a hand reached out of a half open door, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside the room. Another hand clapped over his mouth and muffled the surprised cry the young Trojan uttered.

“’Xandros. Can I trust you to speak quietly?”

The young man nodded frantically and the restraining hands released him. Alexandros turned and threw his arms around the taller man’s neck.

“Vernados. I’m so glad…”

“We have to get out of here,” Vernados interrupted.

“I know.”

He waited for his lover to explain, but Vernados peered out the door instead.

“Come on,” he said.

Eventually they escaped from the palace through a small window. Then they hurried to the barracks.

“Why don’t we just leave?” Alexandros asked.

“We need our weapons at least,” Vernados replied. “I left mine there. You go get your pack, but be quick about it and don’t wake the others.”

They crept into the barracks, which were dark and quiet save for a few snores. Obviously the search had not been extended to the barracks yet and it hadn’t been deemed necessary to wake everyone. Vernados and Alexandros had to grope their way to their beds and quickly stuffed what they could find and thought important into their respective bags. Their weapons they sheathed into their belts.

It never occurred to Alexandros to refuse to come with Vernados. Whatever accusations the Trojans had made against him, the former shepherd loved the older man fiercely; he had left his home for him and come to the city, he had become a soldier for him and worked hard to learn a soldier's skills; his loyalty was to Vernados, he realized, more than to Troy.

A short time later, they slipped out again. They could see that there were more people in front of the palace than earlier, rushing around. Time was running out.

“Traitor!” A voice shouted.

Almost out of nowhere, Prince Deiphobus appeared. In his hand he held a dagger, a ceremonial blade as he had not taken the time yet to get his sword. Without any further warning he attacked. Vernados did not have the chance to drop his bag and defend himself. Alexandros threw himself at Deiphobus, but the blade cut anyway. Instead of a stab, it was a slice, but it was deep enough that Vernados cried out in pain and nearly collapsed.

Alexandros drew his sword. Anger and fear made Alexandros stronger than ever and he smashed the hilt of the weapon against the Prince’s forehead. He had enough sense to know that killing Prince Deiphobus would get him in even more trouble. The Prince fell into the dust. Alexandros left his bag behind and grabbed Vernados by the waist. Then they ran.


	8. In the Dark

When Alexandros awoke, he was cold. The air was moist and cool and he was lying on the dirt floor of a small room which seemed to be underground. It was dark. Alexandros was not bound but he could see that escape was impossible anyway: Besides the thick, wooden door there was only a window high up the wall, just underneath the ceiling, but it was so small that even a child could not have fit through it.

His throat was parched. He hadn’t drunk anything since the feast at the palace and he had no idea what day it was now. He picked through his memories and mourned when he thought of Kallias. Vernados was not in the room. He wondered whether he should hammer against the door to get someone’s attention or simply wait. They wouldn’t leave him down here forever, would they?

Taking another look at his prison, he noticed an empty, smelly bucket he was probably meant to use if he needed to relieve himself. There was no water and no food.

He worried about Vernados, wondered whether he was all right; he tried to tell himself that the older man was a seasoned warrior and not as scared as Alexandros, that he would know what to do. But what if the Trojans didn’t believe that Vernados wasn’t a spy? For the first time, he really considered the consequences of what would happen if the accusations were true. He knew that espionage was a grievous charge.

He didn’t know how long he sat there. All he could tell was that outside it was day time. Finally, the door rattled. A bolt on the other side was drawn back and the door swung open. Alexandros held his breath, anxious to see who would enter. It was Prince Hector. He came in alone but the young man could see guards standing just outside. The door was closed again, not bolted though; of course, Alexandros would never get past Hector, let alone the guards outside.

The Prince leant back against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his chest. His gaze didn’t leave Alexandros, who had risen off the floor.

“What’s your name?” Hector asked.

Alexandros frowned. “My name is Alexandros.”

Hector made an affirmative sound. Almost casually he paced the cell once in front of Alexandros, approaching him in the process.

“You understand, of course, why I ask?”

“No, I don’t,” Alexandros admitted hesitantly.

“Many spies hide their true names when they are on a mission.”

“I’m not a spy!” The younger man flared up, taking an uncontrolled step forward before he abruptly caught himself.

Hector’s gaze bored into his eyes.

“So your lover swore on Apollo. He claims that you’re innocent and that you’d met in spring, at a festival on Mount Ida.”

“It was a festival for Demeter,” the Trojan agreed, his voice quiet and wistful.

“Who are your parents?”

Alexandros hesitated. He didn’t know what they would do to his parents and locked up as he was, he wouldn’t be able to protect them either.

“Answer me!” The Crown Prince ordered, his voice sharp and quite loud all of a sudden. The younger man flinched.

“Their names are Agelaus, son of Kimon, and Selene, daughter of Deucalion.”

Hector tilted his head. “Agelaus, son of Kimon, you say?” Alexandros nearly squirmed under the older man’s intense stare. He couldn’t tell what the Prince was thinking.

“We will confirm that of course.”

“What will you do to them?” Alexandros demanded, fearing now not only for himself but also for his parents.

Hector didn’t bother giving him an answer. Instead, he said:

“Both Simonides and I do not believe that you knew that Vernados is a spy.”

“He is no spy!” Alexandros protested.

“And how do you know that?” Hector rebuked him. Once again he managed to frighten the younger Trojan into silence. “You’ve known him, by your own words, only since spring! Do you even know where he comes from?”

With suddenly clarity, Alexandros realized that he didn’t. Vernados had told him stories about the small village in which he had grown up, but he had never mentioned where it was, or whether it had a name, and Alexandros had not bothered to ask. He had assumed that he would never see this place anyway and that had been it.

Hector forced Alexandros backwards until the younger man was pressed completely flat against the wall; the Crown Prince put his hands on either side of the younger man’s head.

“He is a spy! He has admitted that much! We have only to find out whether he works for the Akkadians, the Carians, or even the Achaeans.” Hector gave an unpleasant sneer. “What a lucky coincidence that the Egyptian emissary recognized him. Your lover has gotten around in the world. He spied out Egypt’s armies, too. Quite successfully so.” Hector’s expression darkened. “But it ends here in Troy.”

The Crown Prince finally backed off. Only now did Alexandros realize that he was trembling. Hector turned to leave.

“Wait!” Alexandros cried out. “I need to see him!”

“Perhaps you will. But don’t count on it.” Without giving him another look, Hector left.

Alexandros collapsed onto the floor. Outside, the sun sank and with it, the cell turned even darker. A guard came in once to place a slice of bread and a cup of water on the floor. He didn’t answer Alexandros’ pleas for news on Vernados.

The former shepherd curled up on the floor for the night in a vain effort to keep warm and he hardly slept. The next day, a different guard brought him breakfast: again a slice of bread and a cup of water which smelled no better than it had the day before. Alexandros was too tired to demand to see Vernados.

Once again he could not tell how quickly or slowly time passed. It was all the same to him. The only change came when his noon meal was brought in. Alexandros was hungry but he had no desire to eat.

Some time after his lunch, the door was unlocked and Deiphobus entered.

“Come on up,” the Prince ordered, grabbing the former shepherd by his bicep and pulling him to his feet. “Move!”

Outside, Prince Hector and three guards awaited him. One of the guards threw a smelly sack over Alexandros’ head. He could see nothing. Then his hands were bound behind his back. Two men, probably guards, took Alexandros by his arms and led him. Nobody spoke a word. Alexandros’ blood ran cold as he realized that they might be leading him to his execution. Occasionally, he could discern flickering light, the smell of something burning and he assumed that they were passing torches.

Once they stopped, and a voice warned him:

“Stairs.”

Obediently, Alexandros stumbled up the staircase. The air became fresher, and there was actual light, daylight, Alexandros assumed. But he heard nothing which could tell him that there were people around him besides those who accompanied him.

Soon, they entered a building again. The floor was smooth and cold. Tiles or stone, he realized, rich stone. He assumed that he was in the palace again. A door opened and he was made to enter a room and finally stopped to stand. The rustle of clothes told him that the other men were stepping back.

“Leave us,” a voice commanded. It sounded old, but strong, and used to issuing commands which would be followed.

The door opened and shut again.

“Hector, take off the sack, please; I need to see his face."

Alexandros was confused. Who was this man who ordered around the Crown Prince? The smelly sack was removed from his head. An elderly man with white hair and a white beard stood across from him. He was dressed in dark blue clothes and a white mantle. Alexandros had never seen him before but he realized instantly who this man was.

“Kneel, you peasant,” Deiphobus ordered harshly from somewhere behind Alexandros.

Alexandros’ knees hit the floor. He could not have prevented the automatic reaction even if he had wanted to. King Priam seemed to be stunned by the young man; he was staring at him mutely. Finally he asked almost quietly:

“What is your name?”

“My name is Alexandros.” The shepherd could only wonder that he did not stutter.

“And who are your parents?”

Uncertain, Alexandros glanced at Hector.

“Answer,” the Crown Prince told him. He looked grim, but unlike his brother, he did not take it out on the prisoner.

“Agelaus, son of Kimon, and Selene, daughter of Deucalion.”

“Did your … father-“ Alexandros took note of the pause the King made “-ever mention having lived in Troy.”

The former shepherd froze. Still, it was no lie when he answered: “No. He has herded sheep on Mount Ida his whole life.”

“I see,” the King merely said.

Alexandros felt uncomfortable. He wanted to leave.

“When can I see Vernados?” He asked bluntly. He didn’t feel as if he had much to lose. Disrespect for the King was likely the least of his problems.

The King exchanged a look with Hector.

“Another time perhaps.” King Priam nodded at Hector. It was clearly a signal that the audience was over. Still, the monarch seemed to hesitate when he turned to leave. He looked at Alexandros once more, then he finally left.

Hector tied the sack back over Alexandros’ head. He took the younger man by the arm personally and they returned the way they had come. This time, however, the former shepherd was put in a different cell. It was slightly more comfortable, if by comfortable one meant some straw to sleep on and a bucket of drinking water which didn’t smell as foul as the one before. He wondered at the strange meeting and what it was that had allowed him these ‘privileges’.

The next day he was woken by the sound of the door opening. Once again, it was Prince Hector who had come for him.

“Come with me,” he ordered briskly.

Alexandros did not argue. This time, the Crown Prince did not tie his wrists together, nor did he take his sight. Two guards stood outside, both of whom followed them. Their destination was another cell. Alexandros’ heart beat hard inside his chest as Hector opened the door.

Even in this bad light Alexandros could make out a man lying on his side turned toward the wall on the floor. The young Trojan recognized the long, black hair which lay limp in greasy strands.

“Vernados,” he cried out, rushing to his lover.

The man did not react. “My love?” Alexandros whispered brokenly.

He reached out to the warrior’s shoulder to turn Vernados. He instantly knew that something was wrong. His skin felt cold and waxy to his touch, and the body was stiff. Without any resistance, Vernados slumped onto his other side, this time turned to Alexandros. The Trojan sobbed. Vernados’ eyes were closed in death, his chest did not move with breath, his heart was still and Alexandros’ own skipped a beat in sympathy.

Alexandros wept as he reached out and framed Vernados’ face with his palms. He leant down and rested his chin on his lover’s head, rocking himself in his despair.

“My love,” he murmured again, warm tears running over his cheeks and disappearing into Vernados’ hair. Finally, he released Vernados and gently lowered him back onto the ground. Alexandros realized that the warrior’s chiton had been cut open. His stomach and chest were bruised, the stitches Kallias had put in were ripped. Alexandros could not tell whether Vernados had died of blood loss or of whatever beatings the Trojans had subjected him to.

“His wound was infected,” Hector said behind him, as if in answer to the younger man’s unspoken question.

Rage rose in Alexandros. His eyes were full of hate as he turned and focused on the Crown Prince.

“You bastard,” he spat out between clenched teeth.

Within the blink of an eye, Alexandros jumped at Hector and smashed his balled fist into the Prince’s jaw as hard as he could. Even Hector had not seen the attack coming. But he was a seasoned warrior and reacted too quickly for Alexandros to launch another attack. He restrained the former shepherd’s hands roughly behind his back.

“Careful, Alexandros! I’ll let this go because you’re grieving.” Hector pushed him away and the younger man fell onto the floor next to his lover’s body. “But I suggest you get over it quickly,” the Crown Prince continued harshly. “You hardly knew him anyway.”

Alexandros bared his teeth but did not react to this. “Leave me alone,” he demanded.

Hector turned away after a last, weary look. "Knock when you’re done."


	9. The Oath

Hector had told him to knock when he was ‘done’ but Alexandros would never be done saying goodbye. He stayed in the cell with his lover’s body until Hector returned and took him to the palace. The Trojan didn’t bother to speak. He didn’t care what they were going to do to him; his grief and anger was too great to think of himself.

This time he was not blindfolded as he was led to the palace. It was late in the evening and he saw no one outside but the usual guards. They entered what Alexandros recognized as the same room as the one where he had been before and, like the last time, King Priam was awaiting him. He looked eager, pleased even to see Alexandros.

“Alexandros. I thought you would like to know that I’ve sent men to your parents.”

“Are you planning to kill my family as well?” The young man asked resentfully.

The King seemed taken aback before he realized what Alexandros was referring to. The former shepherd could practically taste the bitterness on his tongue. So quickly Priam had forgotten.

“That is not my intention at all,” the King said  
.  
“Then what is your intention?” Alexandros demanded.

The King cleared his throat. “I wish to introduce you to someone.”

Hector visibly shifted his weight, ready to intervene should the young Trojan show any sign of hostility. The King opened a smaller side-door and through it entered a woman. She was veiled so Alexandros could only make out the outline of her face. He did not know her. She, however, only had to take one look at him to gasp in shock.

“It’s him!” She cried out. “That is my Paris! That is my son!”

She rushed to Alexandros. Stunned, he did not react at first when she threw her arms around him.

“My son,” she sobbed. She lifted her hand to his face and at her touch, Alexandros’ rose from his stupor. He jerked back.

“Who are you?!”

The woman looked at him in astonishment, as if surprised he did not recognize her. “I’m your mother.”

“No, you’re not! You’re not my mother!”

The former shepherd recoiled from her and Hector gently pulled the woman away from him.

“What is this? What are you trying to do?”

“We’re not trying to do anything,” Priam attempted to placate. “We believe you are the child we lost twenty years ago.”

Alexandros glared. “No.”

“You believe your father to be Agelaus, son of Kimon. He was a soldier here in Troy twenty years ago. After my wife Hecuba had given birth to a son, whom we called Paris, she had bad dreams about this child, dreams which were interpreted to mean that he would cause Troy’s destruction. Believe me, it was a hard decision for all of us but I thought I was doing the right thing when I gave Agelaus the task to put out our newborn son; it was my greatest regret. Agelaus returned and claimed he had done as I ordered. Then he left Troy altogether. Now you come, as old as Paris would be now, claiming him as your father, looking so similar to my other sons! And now, Hecuba, with the eyes of a mother, swears you are her son Paris! But proof there must be so we have sent for Agelaus to have his say.”

The former shepherd shook his head vehemently. “I’m not your son! I’m not your Paris! I’m Alexandros, no one else!”

The King reached out for him but the young man jerked back.

“You are liars! Liars and murderers!” He shouted. “You killed my friend and my lover and now you dare to look me in the face and come up with such lies?!”

Hector clamped his hand around Alexandros’ shoulder and squeezed it painfully, no longer content with merely watching.

“Shut up!” He commanded.

The King looked at them sadly. “Please, both of you calm down. We will wait for Agelaus but it will not be necessary for Paris to go back to the cell. There are other rooms in the palace much more suited.”

“I don’t want to live in your palace,” the former shepherd protested.

Priam only gave him another look full of pity. “Hector, help him get settled.” It was a clear dismissal.

 

Alexandros spent the night awake. The bed was soft, too soft for his comfort and he was too agitated to think of sleeping. He already knew that guards were right outside his door – courtesy of Hector he was sure, though he could not blame the crown prince. Anything else would have been negligent. The young Trojan had considered leaving the city but he had realized that it was not possible.

He had wondered at least a hundred times how long it would take for his father to arrive. He would undoubtedly hurry so his arrival could be expected the next afternoon. The longer he thought about the matter, the more afraid he became. What if the King and Queen were telling the truth?

He paced his room from wall to wall until the sun rose. In the morning he received breakfast, which was so opulent that Alexandros couldn’t finish it. At lunch another servant came. This time, the former shepherd asked him:

“Do you know whether I may leave this room?”

The woman looked uncomfortable. "Crown Prince Hector advises against it," she told him.

“Of course.”

The Trojan ate halfheartedly. He was angry and confused and missed Vernados terribly. Angry tears rolled down his cheeks. Alexandros forced himself to suppress them and only succeeded in getting a headache.

Finally, hours after lunch, the door opened and Hector entered.

“Come,” he ordered shortly.

They went to a large hall, the room in which the King usually received his petitioners. Alexandros saw both his father and his mother standing close to each other near Deiphobus. Alexandros would have run to his parents if it weren’t for the King standing between them.

“Thank you for coming,” Priam said.

“It’s not as if I had a choice,” the former shepherd replied sourly.

“Watch your tone,” Hector muttered to him. The young Trojan didn't react.

“Agelaus has admitted that you are not his son,” the King continued.

Alexandros was shocked. “What?” He searched his father’s – Agelaus’ – eyes. The man looked at him mournfully.

“You’re lying," the Trojan repeated his words from the day before.

“No, he’s not,” Agelaus spoke up softly. “I’m sorry, Alexandros. Your name is Paris. I took you on as my son, but you’re a child of the King of Troy."

Once again, Alexandros’ world broke.

* * *

“Father asks whether you want to see Vernados’ body again.”

“How kind of him,” Alexandros replied bitterly. It seemed that his tongue would not utter words in any other tone but in spite.

Hector frowned at him. “You should be grateful he bothered to ask.”

“I’m sure I should be. Where will you put up the pyre?”

“There won’t be a pyre. Vernados was a spy and a foreigner.”

Alexandros’ face hardened. “I want a pyre.”

“Be careful not to overstep your boundaries, Paris. Our father does much to welcome you back into our family. I, however, will not show you the same courtesy without you doing something in return to deserve it. As far as I'm concerned, you're a stranger.”

“You can order me around on any other matter but not on this! I loved him. I will not have his body be the carrion of dogs and crows! I’ll make his pyre myself, outside of Troy, where no one will know. Grant me this and I swear I will never say another bad word against this family.”

“Your family,” Hector reminded him. “Very well. I’ll arrange it.” The prince turned to leave.

“Wait! What about Kallias?”

“His body has already been taken care of.”

The door closed behind the prince.

 

A few hours later, Paris Alexandros stood in front of a pitifully small pyre. He was close to the forest so he wouldn’t have to carry the wood very far but far away enough from the city as not to be seen. Hector and Deiphobus had accompanied him and now lingered a fair distance away, watching Alexandros like guard dogs. Alexandros did not even glance at them. This was more important.

He had not been given much time. Priam planned to give a feast in the new found son’s honor that night. It would be the first feast he would attend without feeling Vernados’ reassuring presence, and the first feast where he would be the center of attention. There was only a little while left until the crown-prince and his brother would fetch him and escort him back to the city.

Thus the former shepherd had not been able to gather a lot of wood for the pyre; most of it was deadwood and the result was beneath what was considered proper for a warrior’s funeral. The young Trojan had spread a cloak of his over his lover’s body and only left the face uncovered. Now he stroked over the pale, waxen features one last time.

“Vernados…” he trailed off. The grief threatened to overwhelm him once more but he pushed it down. He refused to look at the Trojan princes behind him but he knew they were there.

Alexandros searched for Vernados’ hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I love you,” he said quietly. “I’ll never forget you.” Between clenched teeth he went on: “And I’ll never forget whose knife it was that stabbed you.”

Looking upwards to the cloudless sky, he swore: “The gods be my witness, your death will be avenged. For Vernados I will see this city fall, even if it costs me my life. I will see Troy fall.”


	10. Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never posted this chapter on any other sites because the story stands alone fine at 9 chapters. Chapter 10 is - in my eyes anyway - a lot more brutal than the rest of the story. Be prepared for major character death.

They met at the gate. Outside, Achilles was still shouting for Hector to come out of the city. Inside, it was deathly quiet. Alexandros' expression was inscrutable. Perhaps he felt a twinge of regret, but there was still an underlying feeling of impending victory, just under the surface. He knew that Hector would not leave the battlefield alive this time. He may be one of the more tolerable members of the royal family, and once Alexandros had even admired and liked him. But this had changed when he had seen the body of his lover in a Trojan prison cell beneath the palace.

Hector studied him. Alexandros had not always been certain that he had successfully fooled the crown prince. How poetic that today of all days Hector would realize the entire extend Paris’ plans.

“This is goodbye brother," Hector said. “Things are almost as you want them.”

Alexandros did not reply. He was not afraid of Hector, not anymore.

“Do you have nothing to say? I assume your lack of defense means that I am right. How blind I was not to have seen this before as what it was. Tell me, do you even love Helen?"

“Surely you should know Hector that I have ceased to love. I did it once with all my heart and you strew his life in the dust."

“All of this, an elaborate plan killing thousands of people – innocent people, people you even called your friends years ago and your own family! – you sentenced all of them to death for one man?”

“Yes, I did.” Alexandros gave an insincere smile. "I didn’t care so much about Troy. I wanted you dead: you, Deiphobus and Priam. You were never my family. But I realized that the best way to have you pay for Vernados' death was this war. I swore to kill you at Vernados’ pyre. That is why I took Helen. There you have the truth." Paris watched the impact of his words on Hector's face. “You think me insane, don’t you?”

“I think I should have cut your head off before Father even had the chance to see you. You pitiless creature, you would not even save Andromache and my son or any of the other women and children in Troy even if I begged!" The Trojan prince hissed.

The younger man shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. Would you beg me for them?”

Outside, Achilles shouted for Hector again. The crown-prince glanced at the gate which was the last barrier to his challenger.

“My time is over. I cannot warn Father, for he waits only to see me outside in the field, I cannot tell my brothers to obliterate you, for they are with him. How well you played your game, too well for a little shepherd boy. I wonder now whether you were not also working as a spy after all."

“That question I will answer for you: I was no spy. I was merely a shepherd boy, as you say, an innocent young man. But you and your family ripped that innocence away. Is there anything else I may do for you before you walk to your death, oh Prince?” Alexandros arrogantly lifted his chin.

Hector sneered. "Yes, there may be after all. Hold still for just a moment..."

* * *

Hundreds of Trojans were lined on the walls, waiting anxiously to see the fate of their city's defender. No one spoke a single word. Achilles paced across the plain in front of the city, breathing heavily in anger. He made to roar for Hector again when the city gate at last opened.

“Finally,” Achilles shouted. He was about to add more, probably an insult as well, but he froze when he saw that Hector’s hands were not empty.

Hector stepped out of the wall’s shadow and the whole city seemed to gasp as they saw him. His sword was sheathed in his belt and he wore his helmet as usual. But with his right hand he was dragging a body through the sand while in his left he grasped a head by its long, curly brown hair, hair much like his own.

He briefly made eye-contact with Achilles to show that he had not forgotten the warrior, then he dragged the body to the part of the wall directly in the royal family's sight. The king gasped, jumping off his seat as the queen fainted and Helen wailed out her pain. Hector seemed to register none of this as he threw Alexandros’ head into the dust. The Greeks were not close enough to see who it was Hector had beheaded but they heard Achilles when the blonde laughed cruelly.

“Have you finally killed your brother for his cowardly ways and for dooming Troy with his love affair?” He taunted.

Agamemnon’s head jerked up, his eyes straining to see all the way to the body. Odysseus next to him breathed, "What in Zeus' name...?"

“It was no love affair,” Hector contradicted the blonde warrior. Raising his voice, he continued: “Before we fight I want every man and every woman of Troy and every warrior of Greece to hear this: Alexandros may have been cowardly, yes, and he certainly doomed Troy.”

Again, cries and wails were heard from the city. Though everyone had thought so for years, no one had expected their champion to actually say it, ever, let alone so bluntly: Troy was doomed to fall.

“But it was not for the love of Helen!” Hector pointed at the Mykonian king's wife up on the battlements. "It was a farce to take his revenge for a spy who died in our prisons five years ago. Paris may have been cowardly but each and every one of us underestimated him; we did not realize what his true intention was: my death, the death of my brothers, the death of my father. But he could not do it himself so he took Helen and caused this war, knowing that the Greeks would take care of us, accepting that thousands of Trojans would be killed as well. Well, he did not escape either. He was not the first, he will not be the last but let it not be said that Hector, crown-prince of Troy, let Paris get away with his crime merely because they were brothers. I am only sorry I did not realize it all earlier."

Priam leant over the battlements. He looked as if he had aged ten years in only a few moments. “How do you know you this, Hector? How can you be certain?” The king asked. His voice sounded weak and broken.

Hector looked up to his father. “I’m sorry my King, but he confessed to me. He fooled us all. He was never part of our family, no matter what blood was in his veins. He despised us and he sought our death ever since he found Vernados dead in that cell.” Hector paused. He could not see it exactly but he thought he saw his Father close his eyes in pain, perhaps even a tear run down his weathered cheek. "I did what I had to. I am only sorry I did not realize this much earlier.”

The King seemed to collapse against the wall. Deiphobus and Helenus supported him by his arms. Deiphobus’ expression was twisted with anger.

Hector forced himself to turn away and face his challenger.

“Now we fight.”


End file.
